Montana Mail-Order Wife. Charlotte Douglas

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СКАЧАТЬ his index finger to her lips, creating an unaccustomed tingle along the sensitive skin. “If you promise to relax, I promise to answer any questions I can.”

      His composure irritated her, but his unyielding expression convinced her to follow his instructions. She inhaled, drawing in the resinous scent of evergreens and the fragrance of unfamiliar flowers on the cool mountain air. Slowly, her tension eased.

      “That’s better.” He released her hands with a nod of satisfaction, but his eyes held a burning, distant look, as if he wished he was anywhere but there.

      She resisted the urge to grab his hand again, yearning for his touch to drive away her lack of connection to anyone or anything. “Please, tell me about myself, my family, what I’m doing here.”

      “You’re twenty-eight years old. You grew up in Missouri.” With a calm she envied, he ticked off the facts on long, capable fingers with clean, square nails. “You’re an only child. Both your parents died years ago in an automobile accident.”

      His words generated no response.

      No memories.

      No pain.

      He scanned her face as if looking for signs of the recognition she longed for, but she couldn’t reveal what wasn’t there. For all the impact his words had, he could have been talking about a total stranger.

      “And after my parents died?” she prodded.

      “A few years ago you sold your home in Missouri and moved to Atlanta.”

      The breeze changed direction, gusting across Wade, carrying a pleasantly masculine scent of leather and soap and lifting his hair to expose a high, wide forehead, slightly less tanned than his cheeks.

      Had she lost her mind as well as her memories? She should be concentrating on the missing facts of her life, not the all-too-fascinating man before her.

      “Did I have a job in Atlanta?” She silently cursed the breathlessness in her voice.

      Wade didn’t seem to notice, but if he did, she hoped he blamed it on curiosity. “You worked as a paralegal in a firm that practiced corporate law.”

      Corporate law? When she drew another blank at the term, her frustration grew, and she had to force herself to relax again. “What about the rest of my family?”

      He shook his head and compassion glittered in his eyes. “There’s nobody. The hospital’s had the authorities searching for next of kin ever since you were brought here. After the accident.”

      As if uneasy, he shifted and assessed her with a wary eye, but again she experienced nothing except curiosity in reaction to his words. “What accident?”

      “Your train derailed west of Kalispell. You were airlifted to the hospital here.”

      So far, he’d given her only fragments of her life, certainly not enough for her to piece together her identity, but too much for a total stranger to know. “How do you know so much about me?”

      He shrugged, and the compassion in his face gave way to discomfort. “I learned most of it from your letters.”

      “Letters? Like the one you showed me yesterday?”

      He nodded, then sat unmoving, almost as if holding his breath.

      She studied his face with more care than before, seeing past the composed veneer to a restless energy beneath. “Do I know you?”

      “We’ve never met.”

      Confusion made her head ache. “Then why was I writing to you?”

      “Maybe the rest can wait.” He avoided her eyes.

      His evasiveness alarmed her and made her pulse quicken. The rest had been dry facts, meaningless, but she could tell from the tension in his posture that this answer was crucial. “Tell me now. Why was I writing to someone I’ve never met?”

      He raised his head and caught her in the powerful gaze of eyes so deep and murky she could have drowned in them.

      “Because you were going to marry me.”

      WADE SCRAMBLED to his feet and caught the fainting Rachel before she slid off the bench. As he jogged back toward the building with her in his arms, her thick lashes brushed cheeks gone pale, and her warm, supple body bounced, featherlight, against his chest. A fierce protectiveness flared deep in his gut, white-hot with forgotten longing.

      You scared her to death, you dadburned fool. Maybe her promise to marry you is something she doesn’t want to remember.

      The automatic door glided open at his approach. He rushed past the nurses’ station to her room and laid her on the bed. Drawing the covers to hide her long, sculpted legs, slender hips and the firm, round curves of her breasts from his covetous glance, he stepped back and shoved hands that ached to touch her into his pockets.

      He was acting like such a damned idiot, no wonder she’d fainted at the thought of marrying him. Between the train wreck and her amnesia, she’d already suffered too many shocks. News of their engagement had been the last straw. Guilt seeped through him for telling her so abruptly.

      And tenderness followed as he noted the sweet curve of her cheek against the pillow, reminding him of countless times he’d carried a sleeping Jordan to his room and tucked him in without waking him.

      Ah, Jordan. I thought I’d worked out everything for you, and now look what I’ve gone and done.

      “Will she be okay?” He shifted aside for the nurse to check Rachel.

      Rachel’s lids fluttered, and she opened her eyes. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

      The nurse concurred with Rachel’s assessment. “But no more outings until tomorrow. In the meantime, rest.”

      Rachel propped herself on her elbows, watched the door close behind the nurse, then turned amazing emerald eyes toward him. “Sorry if I worried you. I’m fine, really.”

      Weak with relief, he grinned. “Coulda fooled me. I thought you’d gone into cardiac arrest at the mention of marriage.”

      A delightful blush brought the pinkness back to her cheeks, and a dancing smile brightened her eyes. “You’re the first man who’s ever proposed to me.” Her smile dimmed. “That I can remember, anyway.”

      His face flamed with discomfort. Because she couldn’t recall the circumstances of their engagement, she’d jumped to all the wrong conclusions.

      Not that he blamed her.

      Ever since she’d first met him, she couldn’t help noticing the unintended signals of his unexpected and definitely unwelcome attraction to her that he’d been relaying like a microwave tower. He had to set her straight before she embarrassed herself, or him, further.

      He dragged a straight chair beside the bed, straddled it backward, and folded his arms on the backrest. Explaining in a letter would have been a lot easier, without his tongue wrapping itself around his teeth. And without the distraction of too-green eyes, kissable lips and a pert nose turned СКАЧАТЬ